


Of Arch-Nemesis Octopus and Teething Bones

by DeviousNymph



Series: Teething Bones [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dad Stiles, Deputy Boyd, Derek fails at first impressions, Derek is a Good Alpha, F/M, Isaac the kindergarten teacher, Kid Fic, M/M, Scott was never bitten, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Dad, Slow Build, Spark Stiles, Werewolf baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviousNymph/pseuds/DeviousNymph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had known life was going to be different when he left quiet Beacon Hills for college. He hadn't expected the differences to be as big as finding out about magic, or living as a single dad after adopting a werewolf baby.</p>
<p>Luckily the part where he has to move back to Beacon Hills to take care of his dad post-heart attack wasn't too much of a surprise. The surprises there started with meeting Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Opening of Pandora's Box: Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a little snippet on tumblr and then developed a mind of it's own. :) The relationships tags are for the fic overall, while the other tags are added as the chapters go up to keep spoilers to a minimum.
> 
> I am ridiculously excited about this fic, and owe tons of thanks to my fantastic betas. Hopefully you all enjoy it! As always any feedback is appreciated.

There were a lot of issues Stiles had obsessed over while preparing to move across country and back in with his dad. Most of them had been focused on the potential problems of having both a noisy 14 month-old and a stubborn, recovering old man (who absolutely refused to admit that his heart attack might have left lingering effects) in the same house. Some had been worries about how he would handle living with his dad after a decade of independence (college totally counted no matter what his dad said), and a few about what exactly he’d do if he wanted to hook up with someone (honestly, that one had been an issue for five months now and he was no closer to finding the answer). Eventually it had all focused down to ‘Did I get everything packed?’, ‘Please don’t let the movers steal any of our stuff’, ‘Where the hell am I going to put everything?’, and the unfortunately common ‘Did I forget to pack enough snacks?’.

Somehow he had managed to completely overlook one of the most obvious issues. Struggling to keep a grimace off his face, Stiles wiggled a stuffed octopus at his wolfed-out, growling toddler. It only took a moment of playful distraction and soft coos to get the little guy calmed down and distracted from the evil coffee table before he forced himself up and turned to the shocked man frozen at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah… So Dad, there’s a little something I forgot to mention."  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles had been expecting to have all types of amazing experiences while at college; he just expected there to be a little more drunk shenanigans and a little less monster summoning at his first out of control frat party. By the end of the night Stiles had seen plenty of proof that the supernatural existed; the scratch on his side from a set of claws and a Fourth of July worthy magical light show intended to send the monsters back had been the most convincing evidence. (Plus there was the whole seeing his quiet room-mate let out a glass shattering shriek before tackling one of the creatures).

Accepting the supernatural existed had been the easy part, the hard part had come when he discovered that he had just enough of a spark to do a little magic wielding of his own (what exactly this spark consisted of he had never found out, apparently it took the campus’s coven master a while to forgive you if you accidentally destroyed one of his sacred urns when your power decided to make its debut). He couldn’t do a ton of spell work; magical item manipulation and herbs/potion making was more of his thing, but Stiles was good at what he could do.

The area he really kicked ass in was research. Dead bodies appearing with weird wounds- talk to Stiles he’ll tell you what it is. Think your TA is some evil creature determined to suck out your soul- that weird dude who lives in Berton Hall might help you. Mysterious runes appearing around your house- you know who to call (and seriously who the hell curses their neighbor’s yard to play bathroom for all the dogs in a three mile radius). His tenacity and attention to detail was a huge help when it came to figuring out the truth from what tended to be questionable sources. Plus, being incredibly charming (or just really fucking annoying sometimes) had managed to open up informational doorways for him. By the end of his sophomore year he had already changed his major to Cultural Anthropology with a heavy concentration in mythology and different languages (with minors in history and computer science because he wanted to actually find a job).

College passed in a blur; sooner than he had ever expected his dad was taking pictures of him at graduation and he was defending his choice to stay in town rather than moving somewhere closer to California. Stiles couldn’t help but feel that if he could have told his dad about the coven of witches with job connections the whole thing would have gone over smoother. In the end, a few of his friends had helped pull some strings to get him an interview (and maybe had dropped a few good words in someone’s ears), but it had been his own knowledge and enthusiasm that earned him his first post college job at one of the city’s most popular museums. It was better than most recent graduates were likely to get, but still not anything special. The best part of the job was that it would introduce him to people that could help him with his career goals (after he decided what exactly they were); the decent pay check was pretty alright too.

In short, Stiles was a fucking adult now. He had his own apartment, school loans to pay off, a paying job, a car payment (Betsy had unfortunately passed away peacefully in the night during his junior year), and even the occasional sexual partner. Life wasn’t perfect, but overall he considered himself pretty damn happy. That really should have been his first clue that something was going to happen.

He had been on his way home from a work dinner (it never hurt to go a long when his superiors decided to wine and dine their special guests), hands drumming out a beat on the steering wheel and bobbing his head to the music when a large red smear on the road caused him to hit the brakes. He twisted in his seat to examine the mark through his back window, debating internally before hitting reverse and parking on the side of the road near the mess.

Grabbing the flashlight from his glove compartment and a slightly ‘enhanced’ baseball bat from the floor of his back seat, Stiles climbed out of the car ready to find the source of the blood. Clicking on his flashlight, Stiles stepped into the forest that surrounded this particular stretch of road, following traces of blood (which worked a ton better than any bread trail ever had). 

He walked for a steady twenty minutes before stumbling into a clearing that was obviously the right one. The bodies were fresh, much fresher than he was used to (and more in person). Blood was everywhere, its scent overwhelming his nose before he managed to get it safely tucked into his shirt. Something horrible had happened here…

It didn’t add up. There were too many bodies for the pack he knew was passing through (some of the city’s witches produced an incredibly accurate newsletter detailing the supernatural ongoings of the city, his own moment in the spotlight had been particularly embarrassing – when witches warn you not to ingest the special punch you should listen), and the wounds definitely didn’t look like your typical hunter’s style. Crouching next to the closest body, Stiles grabbed a small stick to move the clothing to get an unobstructed look at the wounds.

Lightly humming to himself, Stiles moved to another body, this one collapsed right on top of another. One man had his throat ripped open, while his hand was buried in the chest of the man he was laying on. Shivering at the sight of the appendage buried in someone’s chest, Stiles moved to check out another body when his flashlight briefly passed over the hands of the body on the bottom. Freezing, Stiles took a shaky breath before focusing the flashlight back on the man’s claws.

“Fuck, fuck.” Stiles threw himself away from the bodies. “Werewolves killing other werewolves. I’ve got to get out of here.” He had to leave now, just in case someone was still out there; he stood no chance against a werewolf with no prep. He would have to alert the others in the city and one of them could come out and deal with this mess; Stiles had no business being involved in a showdown between werewolf packs.

Muttering a few more obscenities under his breath Stiles started to leave the area, only to go a few steps before a weak whine reached his ears. Immediately lifting his bat into swinging position Stiles twisted around, eyes scanning the darkness for the source of the noise. When the search proved futile, when nothing burst out of the surrounding forest and none of the bodies so much as twitched, he turned to take a few more steps out of the clearing purposefully making sure his footsteps crunched loudly. Ah, there it was again, louder this time!

Damn his unstoppable curiosity, the louder sound gave Stiles a general idea of direction and he found himself barely hesitating to head in that direction. By the time he closed onto the farthest corner of the area the whine had trailed off into steady whimper. Stiles willed a little more belief into the protective talisman he wore around his neck before using his flashlight to illuminate the area…

There was a little blood-covered diaper-wearing baby mostly under an obviously dead woman. There was a _baby_ under the _dead_ woman. Breathing suddenly became harder as Stiles stared at the scene below him, the whinnying wiggling baby contrasted sharply against the destroyed body that partly covered it.

A small wail cut through his panic, reminding him of the problem at hand. Pushing his feelings aside for the moment, Stiles pulled his shirt off the bottom half of his face to murmur comforting words to the baby, while he wandered his flashlight over the immediate area, vaguely searching for answers. It was an even louder wail that jump-started Stiles’ common sense. He needed to get the kid out of here and checked out for injuries. 

“Alright, alright. I’m going to pick you up.” Tucking his baseball bat under his arms Stiles bent down to gently roll the woman off the child, trying to ignore the vicious wounds that decorated her upper body. He briefly let his eyes search the clearing for any item of clothing that might be clean enough to wrap the baby up in, but his earlier assessment of the area as a blood bath proved to be right. Sighing, Stiles turned his eyes back to the suddenly quiet kid and promptly met glowing eyes.

Of course, it was just his luck that he would find a bloody, screaming werewolf baby on a night when he was wearing his best work clothes.


	2. Acceptance: Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My betas deserve so much love for this chapter! I was in a hurry to get it written before taking off on a trip and they were handed a mess because I didn't have the time to go over it before sending it on.

The little guy went straight into the bathtub once Stiles got him back to his place. He was apparently old enough to sit up by himself; not that Stiles let that stop him from hovering one hand protectively behind the child while Googling how to bathe a baby with the other. Despite the ridiculous amount of blood he had to clean off the kid, it was actually a pretty fun experience. As soon as the water had started the little dude had squealed and started wiggling with happiness. There was a ton of splashing (which he expected) but a lot less claws than he anticipated, so overall the only casualty was his bathroom floor.

Panic about what he was supposed to do didn’t really set in until he was flopped on the couch with a towel-burritoed baby staring at him from his lap. There might have been a small whimper of panic before he wiggled a hand under the kid to get help.

To Jean  
‘SOS: found werewolf baby, need help, supplies asap’

It was short and sweet, but Jean was fantastic in a crisis and practical enough that she would hop to help with the problem before he had to explain (she had to be for a social worker in a city this size). While he waited for the witch he would just have to wing it, though judging by the sleepy eyes still giving him questioning looks maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer.

The whole taking care of a baby thing wasn’t nearly as hard as his dad said it would be.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The angry little cuddle monster in his arms abandoned all pretense of being human and shifted, his tiny claws slashing out at the middle-aged woman trying to pry him from Stiles arms.

“Maybe we should just let him stay in Stiles’ arms for now. Let him get used to you before trying to do the handover?” Jean questioned from the other side of Stiles, the traitor having stepped out of range once the kid had started complaining.

“I guess. It’s just so strange for a baby to get so worked up all of a sudden.” The married witch finally stopped reaching for the baby, choosing instead to cross her arms and narrow her eyes at Stiles instead. “Are you sure you’ve been taking good care of him?”

Putting more distance between them, Stiles bounced gently while rubbing a hand up and down on the little guy’s back, ignoring the pricking of his claws as the baby clung to his shoulders. His warm response to the tiny werewolf’s problem was the complete opposite of the hard glare and icy tone he decided the woman had finally earned. “He’s been perfectly happy the entire time he has been with me.”

That was only a little complete and utter bullshit. Parenting was nowhere near easy and, unfortunately, the kid wasn’t some little baby genius who already knew how to tell Stiles exactly what he needed. Most of it Stiles had quickly picked up on; it was the times the little guy was completely inconsolable that were the problem. Since there was nothing wrong with him Jean suspected it was him grieving for his deceased pack, which just made it even worse for Stiles. He got that reason; it hit him right where the memory of his mother’s death sat. Would the yuppie witch couple in front of him understand that sometimes their kid just needed to be sad?

Still besides the learning curve and moments of heart-wrenching grief, there were a lot of great times. Lots of cuddling- so much cuddling it was ridiculous. If Stiles really was a cuddleslut (there may have been a few partners who insisted he was in the past) then all his needs would have already been met because the kid was all over him with the cuddling. Developing his picking up cheerios skills had been pretty entertaining too. Every successful pick-up had been celebrated by a wild flailing of Stiles’ arms, while his little protégé laughed in delight. The one morning he had been too caffeine deprived to follow the ritual had resulted in the meanest looking glare he had ever seen a child produce- it was the cutest thing imaginable.

This tiny version of a werewolf would light up with happiness just by having Stiles pay attention to him, tracked his movements as he did his business around the house, and never failed to be entertained by a good game of peek-a-boo. Plus, the whole scenting thing was never _not_ going to be completely adorable.

The point was that while Stiles had seen the kid upset, he had never seen him upset like this. This was almost like he was… scared. According to the few (ten) baby books Stiles had managed to read this was one of those things parents should be worried by. Mr. and Mrs. Call-Me-George-And-Betty seemed more annoyed than anything else. Stiles was giving the best kid ever for their long desired child; a little patience wouldn’t be out of place.

Muttering an excuse to Jean, he moved the little guy from the kitchen to the front room under the guise of calming him down. It wasn’t far enough, but the door between room gave them both some illusion that the issue wasn’t right there. It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. From day one this was the plan, find the kid a nice supernatural friendly home and hand him over to a lifetime of happiness. Sighing, Stiles started doing loops around the room, his body automatically keeping up the now familiar calming routine.

It took a while, but Stiles little buddy eventually shifted back, cooing reassuringly before shoving his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck. Ugh, it was just too adorable to describe. Grumbling about werewolves and their unnaturally adorable offspring, Stiles prepared to make another go at it when the talisman he kept around his neck warmed up. A loud crash and yelp from Jean were the only warning he had before someone came crashing through the kitchen door.

George still looked like a complete yuppie, just instead of a normal one he was one with a magical item glowing in his right hand and a white knife (bone most likely) in the other. Stiles automatically shifted his body to hold the kid on the side away from the witch, struggling slightly with his grip as the baby’s eyes started flashing and growling at the threat before them. “Hand the kid over and I’ll let you leave.”

There is no way in hell that was happening and George clearly noticed because before Stiles even had to chance to let loose a witty reply the fucker was muttering the beginnings of a spell under his breath. Stiles had no weapons, had at least one arm out of the game thanks to the squirming child, and knew he had nothing magical enough on him to prevent whatever the witch was trying to pull. Making a quick decision Stiles made the only play he saw possible and punched the fucker in the nose. 

The resulting crack and consequential blood gush was one of the most beautiful sights Stiles had ever seen. It also had the pleasant side-effect of making the grip loosen enough from around the knife handle to allow Stiles to get a hold of it and take a swing. Ending another human life shouldn’t have been this satisfying, but as Stiles put all his weight on it he knew this was a death he would not regret. It should have been a terrifying moment; instead he found himself more concerned with checking on the baby and wiping the excess blood on his jeans before checking in on the kitchen situation.

Sticking his head through the door had shown Jean in a similarly satisfying position with Betty (this one just involving a bit less knife and more of the magically impaled on root variety). That puzzle solved, Stiles didn’t even hesitate before throwing down the knife and heading back to one of the bathrooms the couple had shown them earlier as part of the look-at-this-awesome-home-for-the-little-guy tour. Stiles was pretty sure he had glimpsed some smelly crap in there that he could use to dull the scent of blood coming from the rest of the house, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt for the two of them to wash up some. He just didn’t want his little buddy stuck around all the signs of death.

By the time they walked through the door to home, both of them were exhausted and Stiles immediately put the little guy to sleep in his bed. The past few hours had been draining- between helping the coven cover up the incident and keeping his little buddy calm Stiles was at finals level exhausted. Fuck all the baby books, they were sleeping together tonight. He’d be automatically climbing in bed if there wasn’t an intense need to do something crawling under his skin.

Wandering back into his living room for a few pacing laps, Stiles rubbed at his forehead in frustration before flopping on the couch. A shower and a bitch session are what he really wanted, but the shower would wake the baby and none of the people he found most comforting knew magic existed. 

It looked like a bomb of baby stuff had exploded all over his apartment, and even though it should irritate him instead Stiles is charmed by it. He liked seeing all the little signs of the past few weeks lying around his apartment. It was then that he finally had to admit his problem. Stiles wasn’t upset some witches decided child sacrifice would be a great power-booster (okay he was a little upset about that), he was upset because the truly horrific event he’d been dreading hadn’t happened. He was emotionally drained because the painful blow of losing the kid didn’t end up coming today. He was exhausted because he’d been struggling not to call his kid _his_ kid all day.

‘Stop looking for parents, I’m keeping him’

In the end it’s much easier to send the text and crawl into bed than he expected, but the weight that it lifts off his chest is enormous. It’s almost as large as the joy he felt when his son wakes him via a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to his cheek the next morning.

It is ridiculously easy to make it all legal, Jean’s people going so far as to produce a birth certificate with Stiles name down as the father.

The hardest part had been choosing a name, he’d ignored the issue the weeks he had the little guy, calling him every endearment he could possibly think of while pointedly not thinking of names that go with Stilinski. Despite the momentary trollish urge he felt to name the kid Jacob (because Twilight werewolf jokes will never get old), he manages to remember his own grumbling in high school and sticks with Nikolai Erik Stilinski.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles’ Dad had been pretty good throughout the whole magic is real and your grandson is a werewolf explanation. The few questions he had asked were straight to the point and clearly intended to make the whole thing more understandable. Still, every time he opened his mouth Stiles waited for his Dad to berate him in some manner. There was a lot he hadn’t been telling. In the end there was nothing, just a quiet request for some air before Stiles watched his Dad disappear out the front door.

For a moment Stiles thought about waiting, like a child who had finished confessing and hadn’t learned their punishment, but an indignant squeal reminded him that he had his own kid now. Huffing at how unreal the fact still felt, Stiles joined Nicky on the floor, he could sit and mope _or_ he could be the epic puppetmaster behind the world’s greatest Octopus vs Werewolf Battle. Whatever his dad did next, Nicky and Stiles would be okay.

At least that’s what he told himself before launching an eight-legged stuffed animal attack from above.

The surprise attack had initially been a success, but his kid was a Stilinski and adapted quickly, shifting and tumbling within a few seconds. For about five minutes he managed to keep his mind focused on playing with Nicky- having to take even fewer breaks than normal to remind the little guy to be careful with his claws (Progress \o/), before a click and a chuckle alerted him to his Dad standing right inside the front doorway. Ms. Octopus went down without Stiles there to guide her, too busy focusing a questioning gaze on his father.

Another chuckle followed before his Dad turned his phone, his screen showing a motionless scene of Stiles, Nicky, and Ms. Octopus all engaged in battle, perfect despite the motion except for a weird flare of light where his kid’s eyes belonged. Laughing, Stiles awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, shrugging his shoulders before admitting, “Yeah, they do that.” 

John chuckled one more time before putting a way his phone and stepping fully into the living room. “Well, now I know why all the photos you sent me of my grandson were of him sleeping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I can be found over on tumblr as Deviousnymph. Besides my general nerdiness, you can find bits from any of my upcoming updates there!


	3. The Tragedy of Remus: Derek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the large break between chapters; I went on an extended family vacation and had no internet access.
> 
> As always, thanks to my beloved betas! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

Erica’s maniacal laughter echoed throughout the house as Isaac grumbled, trying to fend her off while still waking up. It was an unfortunately common occurrence anytime the female beta was off from work and the other tried to sleep in. Years of living together and Derek hadn’t been able to get her to stop.

It was enough to wring a chuckle out of Derek, an act that he was still occasionally surprised by. Taking another sip of his coffee, he flipped the page of his newspaper preparing himself for the moment the chaos would make its way into the kitchen. The Hale House was still large after the rebuilding, but with werewolf hearing there wasn’t much privacy to be found. He’d learnt to deal with it.

“Derek! Let me borrow the Camaro today.” Erica called out as she dragged Isaac behind her, making a straight line for the breakfast scramble Boyd had thoughtfully made before heading out for his shift at the police station. 

Derek just grunted affirmation, she’d just take it either way and this way there was less complaining. 

“That’s not fair. Why don’t I ever get to take the Camaro?” Isaac mumbled around a mouthful of eggs and potatoes, while simultaneously running a hand thru his hair to help fix his sleep-mused curls.

Erica didn’t even give Derek time to answer, automatically laughing between bites of her own food. “Number one, your insurance rate says enough about your driving skills to put anyone off. Number two, of the two of us, I’m the one who could actually afford to fix any damage I cause.” Isaac rolled his eyes at the familiar teasing, his teacher’s salary was nothing compared to the salary Erica made as a financial advisor. 

Derek felt his lips curl up in a light smile before shuffling the paper in front of his face to make sure that the betas couldn’t see it. They knew how fond he was of them, but it was better for Derek if they didn’t know most of their antics were amusing to him.

Returning to Beacon Hills, tired and hardened after years of living in New York with Laura, had been hard. It had gotten worse after he found her body not far from the largest reminder of the family they had lost to the fire. His return to town had coincided with the murders that followed Laura’s, which had made him a prime suspect; which made the search for the alpha’s identity ten times harder on him. Finding out it had been his Uncle Peter the entire time and having to force himself to kill the man had made it a nightmare.

The only good thing about the entire event was that Kate Argent had been one of Peter’s victims.

Shaking his head to get rid of the flicker of memories, Derek put away the paper before taking his mug over to the sink. Cleaning up after yourself was one of the few rules he strictly enforced in the house. It had been necessary years back when he had four teenagers suddenly move into the house.

“So, King of the Munchkins has work today; what about you Derek?” Erica drawled, a devious glint in her eye. Derek knew that glint; it usually meant trouble for him. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that this is what the mousy epileptic blonde had turned into after the bite, other times he figured she was his punishment for giving the bite to a bunch of highschoolers.

“I’m going to be working on digitalizing more of those old books we found in that witch’s basement.” Boyd had run across an old woman carrying some suspicious herbs a few months back, and knowing Beacon Hills’ tendency for supernatural trouble they tracked her to her home. Luckily it had been one of the few cases where the alert was unneeded; the witch had made a potion to give herself a gentle death. The letter Isaac found was upfront about the woman’s unhappiness at living without her recently deceased husband and pleas for her children to forgive her. Derek pretended not to notice how much more Erica and Boyd clung to each other the rest of the night.

A quick search of the house had them leaving with five crates of books and some potentially magic objects before dialing emergency services to check on ‘the old woman in the neighborhood no one had seen lately’. Some of the stuff had turned out to be junk, but the majority was going to be a great contribution to the digital bestiary and physical library they had hidden in the house.

Erica sighed dramatically, “I guess that excuses you from carrying my bags.” She took one last bite before getting up to join him by the sink, brushing her long hair over her shoulder before turning to him. “But I still think you are too much of a homebody. Seriously Derek, you need to get out of the house more often.”

Derek tried not to get frustrated, but sometimes he wished his betas would drop it. He had let himself be consumed by grief and guilt for too long after his family’s deaths, and while he had healed in leaps and bounds after creating his own pack, Derek preferred to go into town only when he needed to. He had pushed himself to change for a while when he dated one of the teachers at the high school, but once that relationship ended (thankfully without any homicide this time) he returned to his slightly antisocial habits.

Answering with his silence, Derek headed for the other side of the house. The remaining crates were already waiting in the office, set up where he could easily pull books out to scan. Bypassing the desk chair for now, Derek turned on the computer and started the program before settling in for a few hours of monotonous labor. Derek occasionally enjoyed work like that, letting his body find a rhythm while his mind wandered on. 

He had been at it for a few hours before he ran across something that made him pause. It was an illustration in one of the older books, yellow and thin with age, of some type of reptile/human hybrid. There was enough detail to the image for Derek to know that it wasn’t referencing kanimas, but anything lizard like was enough to remind him of that hell of a time eleven years ago.

He had originally thought that he would be able to rest after killing Peter; maybe even return to New York and the small apartment he had shared with Laura. Fresh murder victims had quickly shattered that idea. To this day Derek couldn’t tell you if it had been the desire for help, alpha-driven need for a pack, or just a desire to end the loneliness that had him bite his three betas, but whatever the answer was he knew that they were the only reasons he had made it through the return of his Uncle and Jackson’s stint as the kanima. Only his Uncle would have managed to bite a teenager with identity issues that turned him into a murderous lizard instead of a werewolf right before getting killed.

Quickly scanning in the offending image, Derek shoved a bookmark to mark his place before setting the book aside on the desk. He had been paying enough attention to the house to know that Isaac had managed to fumble out the door for work on time and Erica was already off terrorizing sales associates at her favorite stores. Now he could focus on doing his normal routine (he was sure the betas knew he did it, but he tried to limit their exposure to his paranoid tendencies to double-check the house’s defensive supplies.)

It was something he did daily, checking every stash they had hidden from weaponry to werewolf first aid supplies, and it took barely any time because everything was fully stocked as usual. The next part of his routine involved him checking over the entire house for damage; it was ridiculously easier for werewolves to break things around the house - especially a group as rambunctious as his could be. While he only found a few small issues in the house, Derek knew he’d find the most damage where the betas had been training the night before. After he had had the remains of the old house hauled off he had worked with his betas to fill in the old basement and tunnels under the house before bringing in people to rebuild; there were too many bad memories associated with the underground area (and filling it themselves allowed them to add plenty of defensive wards into the foundation). Instead they trained either out in the woods or in a garage/gym hybrid they had built themselves a few miles from the house.

It only took one step inside to see that Erica had decided to be vicious the night before. Sighing, Derek scrawled out a quick list before grabbing his jacket and trudging to the Toyota he had bought once his betas numbered five. Besides the benefits of being able to fit everyone in just one car, it was also handy for when multiple people had errands to run, or if someone was bleeding profusely (the Camaro’s interiors were a bitch to clean). At least people were still accepting the excuse of home renovation for all the strange hardware Derek had found himself purchasing over the years; if he had been anyone else the Sheriff probably would have stopped by for a chat.

At least, despite all Derek’s griping about having to go into town, Howard, the owner of the best hardware store since before his parents were even born was helpful and knew how to mind his own business. He’d been half-way down his list and thinking about what he needed to bring up on his next call with Jackson and Lydia when his phone beeped with a text from Boyd. The younger man rarely asked Derek to join him for lunch when he was working, so he didn’t hesitate in replying and suggesting that they meet at a diner they both loved (but Erica and Isaac completely refused to go to).

All in all Derek would have called it a successful shopping trip if he hadn’t run into Mrs. Pridgens right outside the store. One of the more vocal elderly in Beacon Hills, Mrs. Pidgens was a tiny terror that had made sure that everyone knew what a degenerate Derek Hale was; ‘she had been right there the time the Sheriff arrested fhim under suspicion of murdering his own sister you know’. Most people had downgraded to quiet muttering behind his back in the years since Kate Argent was blamed for the entire string of murders, but Mrs. Pidgens had never felt the need to be quiet or discrete about her opinions of him and those ‘poor brainwashed children’ he had moved into his home as soon as were eighteen. It was only a close parking spot that saved him from more than a light sneer at his presence, but Derek could feel her eyes on him still as he drove down the street to meet Boyd.

Derek had known from the beginning that his living situation would seem strange to the townspeople, because, while in his youth his family had the bonds of blood to excuse their desire to hole all of themselves up on the preserve. His pack was now a bunch of unrelated adults. He had just never expected quite so many people to be talking about it. The negative opinion that had receded after he was cleared of murder charges had quickly returned as soon as the then twenty-four year old had been noticed hanging out with three- eventually four- teenagers. Having all four teenagers move into his rebuilt home had sealed the deal in the town’s opinion; Derek Hale was a grumpy recluse that preyed on the young (the fact that he had become Isaac’s legal guardian only a few months after the death of his father and that the teen had never blossomed more than when under his roof never seemed to come up). 

Three of them still living with him, two of them a married couple, was still considered strange, but old news at this point. Derek had bets with Boyd on how long it would take for their household to return to the top of the gossip list once Cora, Lydia, and Jackson all returned and moved into the house.

Mona’s Diner was not the best Beacon Hills had to offer, in fact in many ways Derek figured it could be labeled the worst, but they made fantastic turkey burgers and the place was noisy enough to not worry about someone hearing your conversation. Boyd had managed to beat him in, so Derek only had to nod to the hostess before joining the younger man at the best table to watch the entrance from.

Knowing them as regulars a waitress was quick to jot down their orders before leaving the two to entertain themselves. Boyd immediately started filling Derek in on small tidbits of information he had picked up throughout his shift (the station’s gossip pool was right up there with the town’s stubborn elderly).

“A couple of the local businesses are to protest the building of that big chain bookstore, their protest ideas are ridiculous but they are determined to do something.”

“Mr. Delgoda has started drinking again; a couple of the guys have made sure to drive by his house regularly, but it’s only a matter of time before another domestic dispute is called in.”

“A couple of the highschoolers spray painted penises all over the outside of the building. Supposedly they are anatomically correct.”

“The lesbian couple on Dustland Street are adopting a baby, already got a kid selected and everything.”

“So, there was a call the other night involving old Mr. Walken, a pool noodle, and potential bestiality…”

Usually this was the kind of meaningless stuff that Boyd would tell them all over dinner, causing the entire table to break out into laughter, but the matter of fact way he related everything told Derek that his second in command had something important to tell him. 

“I was cruising in my patrol car earlier when I smelled something.” Derek felt himself tense automatically; Boyd had proven time and time again that he had the best nose out them all. “I think it’s one of us, but it smelled different… Weird.”

Pulling a small notebook out of his leather jacket, Derek slid it across the table to Boyd. “Write down where you’ve caught it, I’ll go take a look. As soon as your shift is over head straight to the house.”

Boyd nodded and hunched over to write quickly, neither of them voicing the concern that filled both their minds. The Alpha Pack had been gone for a long time, over eight years since they had finally been kicked out of Beacon Hills, but there was always the possibility the survivors could return with more forces. The carnage that group had caused was nothing the Hale Pack wanted to revisit.

As soon as they finished eating, Derek took off to follow Boyd’s list. In the end all he could do was confirm Boyd’s initial assessment. There was someone or thing new in town and it smelled similar to a werewolf. A tense pack meeting that night had them all on their guard the next few days as they combed through town to try and find the scent’s origin, but by the fourth day all they had reported was faint wisps of the scent, but none catching anything fresh enough to lead them to the individual. 

Derek could feel his patience thinning; he had never liked waiting for a threat to reveal itself, but time had given him enough experience to know that giving into his impatience would just cause more problems. They just had to keep searching and hope that no one got hurt in the meantime.

The breakthrough they had all been waited for happened when Derek made a run to the grocery store. The moment he stepped out of the car he smelt it, much stronger than anywhere else they had managed to catch it. Whatever had come to their town was in the store and Derek was going in after it.

He tried to act nonchalant, holding a list out in front of himself as he grabbed a cart and subtly started examining the place. It was always possible that it was a false trail, but as Derek moved through the store he was positive he was heading in the right direction. The moment Derek knew he was right on his target he paused, moving to the meat counter across from the opening of the aisle he was sure the scent’s originator was from. With just a small pivot he could angle himself to see what was down the aisle, without fully revealing himself, and hopefully concealing his interest.

Grabbing the first package of meat in front of him, Derek pretended to be looking at his list as he turned slightly and for a moment he felt grief tighten its grip on his heart… It was a fucking toddler. The smell had been familiar, not just because it was another wolf he had smelled, but because he had smelled the added scents that came with babies before. The shrieks of laughter and feel of fragile bodies had been so long ago, but now that he was in the child’s presence he recognized the scent he had always associated with his younger cousins. It was subdued, almost covered by something Derek couldn’t place, but it was there.

Even if he hadn’t had been exposed to werewolf children before the fire he could have recognized the behavior of a young wolf anywhere. The little one was leaning forward from its seat by the handle of the shopping cart, leaning into the adult with him, little nose flaring as he returned Derek’s stare. The look was almost challenging, but all young ones were like that at first.

“Hey, dude, when did pedophiles become so brazen?”

Derek barely restrained himself from jumping, eyes finally moving from the child to the adult standing with him. Barely shorter than Derek, the man was definitely younger, lean with messy brown hair fluffed up on his head. He was also definitely human. “What?”

The guy huffed before rolling his eyes, “Quit staring at my kid. I know he’s the cutest in the world, but you’re being pretty creepy.”

Derek felt blood rush to his cheeks as shame and indignation flared up in his stomach. Turning his body away from the man and child he tossed the package he had been ‘inspecting’ into his basket before defending himself. “I wasn’t staring at your kid.” Technically he wasn’t, he was just too caught up in memory to register exactly where his eyes were pointed.

From the corner of his eye Derek could see the young man frowning (his child having long decided that his own hand was more entertaining than the two adults before him) and opening his mouth for what was most likely another smart ass comment when another voice called out from an aisle over. 

“Kid, where’d you go?” The Sheriff’s voice was instantly recognizable, and Derek watched with growing horror as the young man in front of him turned to call out his location.

As soon as the young man had his back turned, Derek took one more glance at the child before quickly dumping the package he had been clutching on a random shelf, and hurrying to the entrance. He completely left out the part about practically running away out when he told the betas later that night.


	4. Interlude: Sheriff Stilinski

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. College started back up and Genetics is determined to kill me. Updates will definitely be slower coming, but I have no plans to abandon this fic!

The call that informed John about his son’s successful adoption had been like being suddenly hit by a bag of bricks. He had always prided himself on the open and honest relationship he and his child had, so he had been shocked to learn that his kid had gone through this whole process without telling John anything about it. John had been completely accepting and supportive during the bisexuality reveal, and calm but understanding when his kid had decided on a college on the other side of the country and then _stayed_. He had even played the part of tissue the few times Stiles had come home for holidays broken hearted over some girl or guy.

So why the hell had his kid kept this from him?

John had known Stiles would have kids someday. A few of his deputies had trusted his kid enough to throw the odd babysitting job his way, and every one had given John glowing reports the next day. Stiles had always been fascinated by the little ones they ran into, and John had once been called into the high school because Stiles had gotten a little too adamant during a debate about adoption. So this news wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, he had just expected it about five years later and when his kid had a stable partner. He had expected some kind of phone call with his kid slyly bringing up kids and fishing for reassurance that he would be able to be a good parent.

On the other hand, John was a grandpa now. His baby had a baby, and had even followed through with the family naming tradition despite the teasing it had caused in his own childhood. Nikolai Erik Stilinski… John had a grandson, a little nine-month old grandbaby. His kid taking off to college had made him feel old, but this made him feel ancient. Ancient and full of so much delight as Stiles held the phone so that John could get an earful of soft coos. First chance he got he was flying out to check on his boys.

Hurt, but definitely not wanting Stiles to know, John settled on being delighted, his lunch break the next day devoted to a care package for his new grandson. No amount of distance would keep him from spoiling Nicky. In the beginning, John had also found himself fighting off memories of his beloved Claudia. They had argued so much over what to name Stiles and if they could afford to let her stay home with him once he was born. They had laughed as they playfully fought over whose turn it was to change dirty diapers, and smiled so much John thought their faces might stay stuck that way. Every memory was like a sharp poke at an old wound, but as frantic phone calls for advice came in he began to find himself treasuring every memory his old mind managed to dredge up.

The first call had come four days after Stiles first told him, and it was only years of late night calls from the station that made him able to get through the first few moments of the conversation.

“Dad?” Stiles sounded exhausted and nervous, exactly like he had when he was little and wanted to come climb in bed with him. Only this time it comes with the sounds of a baby howling in the background, close enough that Stiles must be holding the little guy.

“Kid? What’s wrong?” A glance at the clock tells him it’s two am, not too late for John, but definitely later than Stiles would call unless it’s an emergency. Nicky’s obvious displeasure doesn’t help the situation.

“It’s Nicky. He’s sick and I… I don’t know what to do.” Stiles doesn’t even pause for a breath, practically becoming more frantic the longer he rambles on. “I mean, all the books say not to be that parent that rushes your kid to the doctor all the time, but he’s been coughing up all this crud for hours and crying non-stop. He doesn’t cry like this, normally. I mean, he cries, but not this help me, I’m in pain and you are my caregiver so you have to fix this problem because you have fixed all the other problems I’ve ever had-”

“Stiles! Calm down.” John tried to keep his amusement out of his voice, he honestly did, but Stiles had been doing his rambling while panicked routine ever since he was old enough to get in trouble for sneaking extra cookies from the cookie jar. “Nicky is going to be fine. Go to your bathroom, close the door, and turn on your shower as hot as it goes. The steam should help him cough stuff up, call me in half an hour if it hasn’t helped.”

“Are you sure? He really doesn’t need a doctor?”

“I’m sure, let the room fill with steam and keep patting his back.” John could remember having this exact conversation with his own mother while Claudia had paced in the background, bouncing Stiles up and down in an effort to calm him. It was one of the first milestones of parenthood he could remember, but it still was a surprise that he was a part of it.

“Okay, okay.” He listened as they moved, the distinct sound of the shower turning on coming through as Stiles got settled. Between the water and Nicky John could barely make out anything, but he stayed on the line anyway. “Thanks Dad.”

“You’re welcome, I’m here anytime. But kid, I’m sure a quick look at google could have told you the same thing.”

“I’m really sorry, I’m sure you have to work in the morning. He was just so upset and I just…” Stiles was quiet for a moment before continuing, “You always know what to do.”

Even though there was no one in the house, John found himself discretely wiping at wet eyes as he started to get comfortable in bed, trying and probably failing to keep his emotions from bleeding into his voice. “Hey, I said anytime, and I meant it Stiles. I’ve been through the parenting business, especially the single parent part, so I’m always happy to help. Let me know if it doesn’t help and update me in the morning if it does.” 

“Okay, thanks again.” He swore he heard a similar emotion in his kid’s voice, but like usual neither of them pointed it out. 

John stayed awake for the next thirty minutes, staring down his phone. After the last minute rolled by he finally let himself relax, berating himself for not taking the chance for sleep he would need for the day’s shift while reminding himself to check in with Stiles first thing in the morning.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John had been a grandfather for two months when Nicky turned one. He had tried to get time off, but a series of car crashes left him with too much to do (several of the girls in one car had belonged to his people and with one dead and the other in the hospital, he didn’t have the heart to take time off when he could be lessening their burden). Stiles was understanding though and had Scott come set up Skype on one of Stiles’ older laptops.

It was later than he should have been encouraging Stiles to keep his kid up, but Stiles looked so happy with a stupid birthday hat perched on his head, that John couldn’t find the heart to scold him. It was also one of the best looks he’d ever gotten of Nicky; almost every photo Stiles had managed to send had been of the kid sleeping.

“Look! It’s your PaPaw. Say hi Nicky!” Stiles grinned, eyes busy darting between his kid and dad, obviously pleased to have both of them together, while Nicky sat, staring at John with a fist shoved into his mouth. 

“Hey kid, hey Nicky.” It was like hearing his voice flipped a switch and the one-year old gave a squeal, suddenly animated as he recognized the voice from the phone. John didn’t even try to keep the grin off his face; he had forgotten the joy to be had from visible signs of a baby’s love. 

“Wow, Dad look at that! He really does recognize you.” Stiles paused to run a hand over Nicky’s black bushy hair before he snapped back to the task at hand. “Let me get the cupcake and we’ll sing to him.”

Only able to guess what chaos his kid was causing from the few noises the computer picked up and the looks Nicky threw beyond the computer, John focused on talking with his grandson. They had a wonderful conversation about how silly his daddy was and that the two of them would have to sit down for a game when they finally got to meet. While John was aware Nicky was adopted, there was just something about his happiness and laughter as they talked (well, John talked, Nicky babbled) that he swore came right from Stiles. He really had to get out there sometime soon.

“Okay, are you ready?” The birthday song was no beautiful masterpiece, but John treasured it all the same, and both adults laughed as the baby made a huge mess; Stiles kept busy recording Nicky’s messy attempts to feed himself. It was loud and a little crazy and made John ache with how much he missed Stiles and all his noise. Besides the first few months after Claudia’s death, the house had never felt empty as long as Stiles was in it. He had constantly been a whirlwind of sound and energy that was just as exhausting as it was invigorating.

His favorite part of the night was when Stiles pulled out the box John had shipped to them. He had been (unfortunately) banned from spending too much on Nicky’s birthday, thanks to the numerous care packages he had thought to send their way, but he was still excited about what he had found.

“I know you’re shocked Nicky, but PaPaw sent you a present just for your birthday! Hopefully it’s less messy than the present we got for it just being a fantastic Thursday.”Despite the distance, Stiles hadn’t lost any of his ‘side-eying Dad for doing something stupid’ technique. John just shrugged; he had warned Stiles he would be spoiling Nicky.

John patiently watched as Stiles had Nicky ‘help’ with the unwrapping, enjoying the opportunity to watch his son interact with his own child. It was obvious just how much the two adored each other, Nicky going as far as to take a break to pat at his father’s face. He really needed to get onto Stiles about getting a picture with both of them together; his desk was tragically empty and he felt a need to show off.

Finally the box was open and as soon as the lid was off the gift he had hastily shoved in there popped out, earning a surprised squeal and mutter from the duo at the other end of his computer. John poked at the laptop screen, hoping the weird flair that had suddenly flashed wasn’t a sign of technical difficulties before focusing on his gift. Bright orange with turquoise spots, John had found the perfect stuffed octopus for his grandson. All eight legs were there, but not so long that they would get tangled in everything, and its big eyes were a part of the fabric so there was no choking hazard. Nicky seemed to agree with his grandfather because once he got over the initial surprise he was all about getting to it.

“Thank you for not getting a stuffed puppy dog.” Stiles laughed as he set the octopus in front of Nicky. Briefly turning to face the camera he grinned before explaining, “All my friends went with puppy ones and he hates every single one of them.”

Laughing John found himself retelling a similar story about Stiles’ childhood, except it had been at an extended family Christmas and what he wanted to play with was one of his cousin’s tea sets. Stiles had listened with the same shy, small smile that appeared anytime someone talked about a memory from his childhood while Nicky made fast friends with his new toy, introducing his mouth to every part of it.

It was easily the best night he had that entire month.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The heart attack had come as a complete surprise. John had known he was working himself too hard, in ten months he still hadn’t managed to get the time off to go visit his kid, but despite the struggles with budget cuts and sudden tendency for stupidity among his staff he had thought everything was going fine until it suddenly wasn’t. The only plus side was that Melissa McCall had been working at the time and was an expert at handling an upset Stiles. It was a phone call he would have preferred to make himself, but whatever the doctors had dosed him with had put him to sleep before he could manage it himself.

Somehow Stiles had made it to his bedside by the time John was fully conscious, and even though he had left Nicky with a friend, Jon still found himself easily cataloging all the changes he found in his son. For starters his kid was definitely wearing a lot less layers than usual; a pacifier kept threatening to fall out of his pocket every time he went to check his phone (which seemed to be about every two minutes- separation anxiety was just as common in parents as kids), and a new tendency to sleep any chance he got instead of pushing his body until it had to have sleep to function. John’s favorite part came after Stiles had been convinced that he wasn’t going to drop dead at any minute, he finally got to watch his kid’s face as he told Nicky stories in person, and damn, his kid glowed with joy as he recounted story after story.

Between that and Stiles’ new ability to be a little calmer, John had kept his protest about Stiles’ move back to Beacon Hills at a minimum. His son was an adult, a parent, and even more importantly, a Stilinski; John knew just how stubborn they could be.

Besides this way he would get to play the part of the doting grandfather in person.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The whole ‘my kid is a werewolf and by the way I am magic’ thing actually made everything make sense to John. Of course his kid would fall in love with a sudden orphan who had few others options regarding care because of his species. His kid had wiggled his way into this huge secret world, built himself a place in it while graduating from college with honors, and had the room in his heart to fall in love with a baby that came with so many potential issues. John was really damn proud of his kid (He ignored the part that was hurt about not being told and confused about magic). Every day that passed by, every time he saw Stiles with Nicky he felt that pride grow a tiny bit more, and more importantly he knew Stiles’ mother would have felt the exact same way. One night John had even paused while playing with Nicky, just long enough to let his kid know. Stiles had blushed (and possibly rubbed a tear from his eye), but ultimately the news had been greeted with a smile. It had been too long since a reminder of their lost had caused either of them to smile.

John chuckled down at the dark head of hair smooshed against his neck, Stiles had finally explained that Nicky’s habit of pressing his face into the crock of their necks was a form of scenting- meaning Nicky accepted John as a part of his family- pack. John had accepted the information easily (while barely able to contain how pleased he was by the news) and privately decided he might need to make a stop by the library to grab books about wolves.

The quiet that had invaded his house the past ten years was destroyed within days of the new additions, replaced by shrieks of laughter, tears of frustration, and the occasional silence that swore someone was up to trouble. Despite being around a couple weeks Nicky still had a tendency to smack himself against the coffee table, but as John liked to tease, Stiles had had a similar habit of smacking into walls as a child. The little guy would adapt.

Nicky was already testing the stairs, trying to decide if his crawling could handle the whole thing while sending Stiles in a panic every time the toddler was found by them alone (They had debated getting a baby gate, but would it be able to stand up to a miniwerewolf?). John had been lucky to have been there when Nicky let out his first demanding “Dada” at Stiles, and had noticed the toddler’s frequent attempts to pull himself up on furniture. Their life was going to get chaotic fast, but John had raised Stiles, they would manage.

Eventually John was able to coax himself from out of the rocking chair, placing the warm sleeping lump that was Nicky into his crib for his afternoon nap. He couldn’t get enough of holding the little guy, but at the same time John didn’t want him to get used to always sleeping with someone. Plus, no matter what his current status claimed to be, nothing was going to stop John from making his weekly trip to the station to check out their current open cases. He had somehow managed to convince Stiles, that there would be less stress on him if he just had an idea of what his people were dealing with.

If he just so happened to stay long enough to offer some advice or sit in an interrogation or two, well, his kid never needed to know.


	5. It All Goes Pear Shaped: Stiles

“Dadada!” The shout was insistent, demanding his presence immediately. It was one he had been hearing all the time lately, ever since Nicky figured out that Dada was Stiles. Overall, Stiles liked it a hell of a lot better than the crying that summoned him before.“Dadadada!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Stiles called ahead, saving the email he had been drafting before searching for his kid. A frantic day of baby proofing the house and installing baby gates around the stairs had finally made it safe for Nicky to play on his own. Stiles knew his kid had super healing powers thanks to the whole werewolf deal, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Hey.” Predictably he found his son plopped down in the living room, surrounded by a small army of toys. He really had to talk to his Dad about bringing home a toy every time he left the house. Stiles bent and scooped up Nicky, naturally setting him on his hip and eyed the kid. “What’s up buddy?”

“Dada!” Nicky shrieked, smacking one of his tiny hands against Stiles’ chest. His son let out a string of incomprehensible baby babble before shoving his left fist into his mouth and lightly gnawing on it.

“Well that answers that question, let’s get you a snack. How does a banana sound? It sounds like a huge sticky mess to me, but you seem to be pretty fond of them.” He was quick to get Nicky in the kitchen and strapped into his highchair; Nicky was usually an easy going kid but Stiles didn’t want to push it. Still he couldn’t help but mess with his kid a little before retrieving the promised banana. Stiles plucked Nicky’s hand from his mouth, leaning into rub his forehead against his son’s. “We’ve talked about this Nicky, cannibalism isn’t socially acceptable. Don’t get used to the taste of flesh.”

His dad had officially been spending too much time with Nicky, his kid was flashing him his dad’s customary ‘son why do you have to be so weird’ look. Stiles burst out laughing, grabbing at a banana as he clutched at his stomach. Whatever confusion Nicky had felt quickly turned to laughter, joining his dad to fill the kitchen with laughter. 

Stiles had been worried about adjusting to life back in Beacon Hills. Turns out that once he got the whole supernatural reveal over with it was pretty awesome. He was there to properly watch over his dad, guaranteeing the older man followed the orders left by his doctor. He got to watch his dad and Nicky bond, seeing a previously rarely-viewed silly side of his dad as he played with his grandson. Some days it made his heart want to burst with happiness. Others it made him ache from the knowledge that his mother would never be able to meet Nicky.

He and Nicky had been doing great before, but it had mostly just been the two of them. There were few people he trusted to watch his kid for too long, and there had been a limit to the warding he could do to the apartment they rented. Here Stiles had been able to leave Nicky occupied with his grandfather, while Stiles spent hours employing the knowledge he had accumulated warding the house. By the time he was done Stiles was pretty sure he had created the best set of wards he had ever been fortunate to see. Hopefully they would never be tested.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes it felt like preparing to leave the house with Nicky in tow was like going to war. And by sometimes, Stiles meant every single time. He had to pack the diaper bag, making sure to have enough snacks, clothes, and toys to deal with whatever his kid threw at him. His own messenger bag was filled with ingredients he could use in a pinch for some magical assistance, and along with various baby paraphernalia his cargo pants had a pocket with the inside seam ripped out that gave him access to a knife strapped to his outer thigh.

Lastly, Stiles would pull out the charm he had commissioned from the coven. A small medical bracelet he slid on Nicky’s wrist, it would activate a glamour to disguise any of Nicky’s attempts to wolf out while they were in public. Without it Stiles would never have been able to leave the house since, like most kinds of babies, baby werewolves didn’t come with any control over their abilities.

It had been hours, hours since his dad had taken off to just ‘check on things’ at the station. Stiles had been pretty lax about his dad’s visits to the station so far, choosing to ignore when the visits took him a little too long, but this was ridiculous.

Double checking Nicky’s bracelet and his own talisman, Stiles finally piled all their stuff in the car and headed to the station. If he happened to be grumbling under his breath about stupid stubborn old men then no one would be telling on him; Stiles still had a little longer before Nicky hit the parrot stage.

He had been hoping for an element of surprise, bursting in and scowling at his dad, but somehow he hadn’t thought about how the people who had essentially helped his dad raise him would react to Stiles showing up with his kid. He was pretty sure he had never seen some of the older officers move as fast as they did to check out Nicky. 

It made him incredibly thankful for the coven accepting his request for the bracelet; this many people could easily set the little guy off. Luckily, Nicky had the ‘I am incredibly shy stop scaring me’ posture down, and Stiles just had to deal with answering tons of questions and coos of delight. He would never admit it, but he could feel his chest swelling with pride as the people he had grown up around admired Nicky.

It took a few minutes, but he was finally able to break free of the barrage, making his way to the cracked door of the Sheriff’s office. Cracked meant his dad was talking to someone, but it was okay to interrupt. As irritated as he was, Stiles still would have stopped and knocked if the door had been closed. Either way, the fact that his dad hadn’t heard the commotion and come to see the cause told Stiles his dad was seriously focused on something.

“This doesn’t look like just checking in,” Stiles called out as he barged into the room. “I had to drag your poor grandson away from his toys so that we could haul your non-following doctor’s orders ass home.”

The first thing Stiles took in was the startled, guilty look that flashed on his dad’s face. It was seamlessly followed by a look of indignation before fading to a pleased grin at seeing his grandson. Stiles would have had a kid years ago if he had known how much easier it made fussing over his dad.

The second thing was that his father was not alone. Bent over papers right with his dad was another deputy. Someone young that had clearly been hired in the years since he left for school. Someone Stiles remembered from high school… Boyd. It was cool to see the guy, Stiles had barely interacted with the guy, but his dad wouldn’t have let the young deputy so close if he hadn’t genuinely liked and respected him.

Third, Nicky decided that was the perfect moment to glare at the deputy standing by his grandfather, a little growl escaping him before his eyes flashed gold.

Stiles first thought was ‘Oh My God’ as panic started to bloom in his chest, how the fuck was he going to explain that, but all thoughts about fixing the problem stopped as Boyd’s eyes flashed a familiar gold right back at Nicky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this chapter is shorter than usual, but this isn't the only Teething Bones you'll be getting this weekend. Over at my tumblr I'll be taking drabble/ficlet requests for the Teething Bones universe! I've got a couple different ones I'll be posting there over the weekend that answers some of the questions I've been getting, but I'll also be picking a good number of any requests I get!


	6. But Makes Alot of Sense: Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about my lack of updates; there have been a ton of changes in my life lately keeping me from updating. It seems to have calmed down and the next chapter should be out relatively soon.

Anyone who had known him as a child would have been impressed by how quickly Stiles could switch gears as an adult.

The instant the light from Boyd’s eyes registered Stiles reached into one of his pockets, turning to place himself between Boyd and Nicky, knife held protectively in front of himself. His son was already growling at the other werewolf, determined to scare away the new threat.

Boyd didn’t even move an inch, the color of his eyes returning to normal as he impassively stared down Stiles.

He could feel the tension spreading through his body as he prepared for the werewolf’s move. Any moment now and Boyd would stri-

The hand that grabbed at the wrist of his knife hand and hauled him to the other side of the office didn’t belong to the werewolf he had been staring down. “Son, are you crazy,” John growled. “Boyd, the door.” His deputy finally moved, closing the partially opened door before retreating back to his corner of the office. “You just can’t pull a knife out like that on someone in the police station! What if someone else had seen you?”

Betrayal rose up in his belly for a moment as Stiles glared at his father’s restraining hand, his grip on his knife not loosening in the slightest. “He could be dangerous! He could be after your grandson!”

“Kid, Boyd’s been working here since before Nicky was even a sparkle in his mother’s eye. Yes, he does have a whole lot of explaining to do,” The Sheriff threw a glare over his shoulder at his deputy at that comment, before turning to gently reassure his son. “but I trust Boyd.”

Stiles tensed up, before sighing and loosening his grip on the knife. His Dad sensed it for the acknowledgement that it was and ran a hand down a calming but fussing Nicky’s back before turning back to the other occupant of the room.

It was incredibly awkward at first, his Dad leaning forward in his chair with his ‘interrogator’ face on - Not the one that he sometimes used on Stiles when Stiles was misbehaving, but the one that meant that someone stood a chance of getting shot if they didn’t come clean - Boyd seemed to recognize the look as well, promptly spilling the beans that there was a small pack in Beacon Hills but that they were all just trying to live peaceful lives.

“So there are a whole pack of you?” Boyd’s reaffirming nod earned a sigh from the Sheriff, his face finally sliding back to tired as he kept his eyes trained on the papers spread across his desk. Stiles knew from years of watching his father work that the Sheriff was mentally working something out.

Nicky grumbled from where he was being held captive in Stiles’ lap, drawing Stiles’ attention back to his tiny son, greatly displeased that he wasn’t being allowed to explore the office now that there was to be no fighting. Clenching his teeth together to prevent himself from grumbling about stupid secretive werewolves, Stiles carefully balanced Nicky in his lap as he leaned over to forage in the diaper bag for some type of distraction.

“You can let him down,” The quiet words from Boyd startled Stiles, making him both jump in his chair and lose the fragile grip he’d had on the rattle that had wormed its way to the bottom of the bag. “I don’t bite.”

His glare was instantaneous as he snapped out, “I think I know what’s best for my own kid.”

The Sheriff sighed, before settling back in his chair and reprimanding his son, “Boyd isn’t going to do anything to Nicky, you can put him down Stiles.” The look that his dad sent his way was clearly a ‘start playing nice’ look, but Stiles refused to back down. His dad was brand spanking new to the supernatural world, he had obviously never spent nights lying awake thinking about what he would do if other werewolves took Nicky away like Stiles had. The Sheriff let him get away with it for a minute before letting the hard glint appear in his own eyes that reminded Stiles that his father had been dealing with his stubborn streak since Stiles had learned the word ‘no’ and had no intention of backing down now.

Muttering a little more loudly about ‘good-for-nothing deputies’, Stiles moved his eyes from his father’s to the watery pair staring up from his lap. Sighing to let his displeasure be known, Stiles gathered Nicky up into his arms, reassuring his son by letting him shove his nose into his neck.

His dad was right, Boyd had been calm and polite throughout the whole ordeal. Even when Stiles pulled the knife on him… Even when Stiles’ kid accidentally outed him to his shotgun-wielding boss.

Grumbling nonsense under his breath, Stiles glared at his dad for a moment before loosening his grip enough to let the toddler slowly slide between his legs and down to the floor. He watched tense in his seat as Nicky took a moment to observe his surroundings before heading straight for his grandfather. He let a small smile break at the sight of his kid being pulled up into his dad’s arms, Nicky immediately scenting his grandfather- Pointedly staking his claim. It was too cute for Stiles to let the moment go without snapping a quick pic with his cellphone.

A quick look at Boyd showed amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth and Stiles felt himself loosen up a little more. He shouldn’t villainize Boyd for being the first werewolf he’d meet since adopting Nicky, no matter how strongly he was having to resist the urge to grab his kid and run far far away.

“Wasn’t this thing supposed to keep something like this from happening?” the Sheriff asked, purposely ignoring the phone in Stiles’ hands as he ran fingertips hand along the bracelet that encircled his grandson’s chubby wrist.  
Stiles let out a full-body sigh, sprawling out in his chair before running a hand down his own face, “It works when there aren’t people in the supernatural-know in viewing range. I’ve never been alone with a strange member of the community and Nicky before.” Scratching at his head, Stiles continued on mildly embarrassed, “I forgot that little loophole is what made the charm possible to make; one that hide his werewolfness from everyone would have required way too much power to be used often.”

Boyd nodded, before leaning forward in his seat to try to get a better look at the charm while Stiles’ father just looked at him blankly before shrugging and going back to pretending to eat Nicky’s hand. It was clear he had no interest in questioning the ‘mumbo jumbo’ his son dabbled in as long as it was doing it’s job to keep his grandson safe.

Stiles could only lean back in his chair and focus on checking out the other young man and comparing him to the kid he’d vaguely known in high school. Boyd had kept to himself, even after that hot blonde Erica and quiet kid had started hanging out with him. Besides some scuffles with Jackson their sophomore year, Stiles couldn’t even remember him getting in any trouble at school. 

He had filled out a bit more, and honestly if his father was willing to step in between the two of them then he must think highly of the deputy. There was even a wedding ring on his finger… The werewolf was married while Stiles was still mostly partying with his own right hand, figures.

“This explains so much of high school, like seriously everything.” It hadn’t occurred to Stiles before, he was so used to thinking of Beacon Hills as just ‘back home’. Everything there was old, familiar, and definitely not filled with werewolves. This new Beacon Hills Boyd was presenting him with was full of mystery and the unknown; Stiles wasn’t sure if he should be scared or excited.

Boyd huffed in what must have been agreement, even though nothing about his general demeanor indicated how he intended it. Stiles was just that good at interpreting werewolf.

A sigh from his father interrupted any possible more discussion, both Boyd and Stiles automatically giving him their attention while Nicky was distracted by chewing on his fingers. “This one is going to start grumbling about food soon and Boyd has work to be doing. I’ll be talking to both of you later, but get going for now.” There was the edge in his voice that meant there would be no arguing, but that didn’t stop Stiles or Nicky from grumbling as they left the third Stilinski behind and made their way to the car.

Boyd had originally beat them out of the office, but as soon as Stiles finished buckling the toddler in the debuty was making his way out of the station door heading straight for them.

Closing the car door to have something separating his kid from the deputy, Stiles whirled around and bluntly stated,”You knew we were in town; you were way too casual about Nicky.”

Boyd spread his hands out in front of himself, as if to show he came in peace, before confirming Stiles’ suspicion. “We knew, but everyone was under orders to leave you alone.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the beta, one hand sliding up to grip the talisman around his neck. Nothing, there was no perceived threat from the werewolf before him. Reluctantly nodding, Stiles crossed his arms (conveniently placing his knife back within reach) before making his final demand, “I want to meet your Alpha.”

Gold eyes flashed at him from behind the sunglasses back on Boyd’s face, before the beta nodded his head, “I’ll see what can be arranged.”

With that the other man climbed into his squad car and took off, leaving Stiles behind to worry about his future in Beacon Hills.


	7. A Meeting: Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! A bad car crash had me off my game for quite a while and then working the two jobs to replace the car had me too exhausted. However I'm down to one job and really feel my creative juices returning so I'm planning to do a ton more writing!

Stiles suppressed a curse for the second time, warily eying the trees that encroached on both sides of the road. The further into the preservation he drove the tighter his grip on the steering wheel became. Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to meet the Beacon Hills pack at their home; even with the precautions he had taken (plenty of mountain ash in his pockets and making his father aware of the meeting’s location) chances where they could overcome him if a fight started. It was a thought that he honestly didn’t want to focus on.

At least the whole werewolf thing made the Hales' living secluded from the rest of the town make sense. With no neighbors and a whole preserve at their disposal, the family would have had plenty of opportunities to indulge in their nature without risking giving away their secret. It was an issue Stiles was already fretting about; while full moons were only causing Nicky an increase in crankiness now he knew there would be a day when his little guy would need more than night curled up and fussing with his dad.

A small bump in the road earned him a stream of babble from the backseat, Nicky clearly enjoying their adventures in the rough roads that they had been directed to take. Normally he would have turned to catch a glimpse of what his kid was finding fascinating, but a short turn later and Stiles was too distracted by what the trees had finally revealed to take in his son. Logically, Stiles had figured that they couldn’t have been living in the burnt out shell that was the old Hale house, but to turn around the bend and find the monument missing was still a shock. 

The Hale house fire had originally been something he paid no attention too. He was just a kid at the time and still struggling to find his footing after his mother’s death. The implications of what happened didn’t really set in until a day when Scott had coaxed him into a bike ride into the preserve. Happening upon the burnt home had been a shock for the both of them and the sight of a happy family’s home so thoroughly destroyed had him up all night crying about the loss that seemed to echo like his own.

Overtime the sight had become yet another thing he grew jaded about until, like most of the teenaged population of Beacon Hills, it was just a normal part of their little town. There had been some grumbling about tearing the place down, but last Stiles had heard no one had actually followed through with it.

In place of the lifelessness that haunted Stile’s memory stood a yellow with white trim traditional country home. A porch wrapped around from the front of the house to the back, a swinging seat visible past the white fencing bordering it. There were beautiful windows that had to produce amazing natural lighting. It was the kind of home that screamed brightness and family.

The distraction had allowed him to park without being overwhelmed by concern, but now that he was adjusting to the new house Stiles found his mind straying to the meeting ahead of him. Werewolves were known to be territorial, if the pack didn’t like him then they might try to run them out of town. Or take Nicky from him. Or kill both of them and his dad. Or…

“Aieeeee!” The shriek made him jump in his seat, startling him from his building panic, before twisting to check on his toddler. Nicky was straining his body to try and see over the side of his carseat, one of his miniature hands reaching out towards a soft toy laying on the other side of the backseat. The moment his father’s attention registered Nicky turned pouting eyes his way, letting out a whiny stream of ‘Dadas’ as his hand strained to reach his goal.

Chuckling to himself, Stiles quickly slide out his seatbelt and fetched the lost toy, affectionately running a hand over Nicky’s head as the toddler celebrated its return. “Might as well face the music, right Buddy?” Nicky just cooed in response, perfectly happy now that his toy was back where it belonged.

Momentarily soothed by his kid, Stiles was able to let himself fall into the routine he’d developed anytime he needed to go somewhere with Nicky. It mainly consisted of grabbing everything he’d though he would need before starting to unbuckle his mobile child from his car seat. The only difference was that this time Stiles passed up the usual bracelet check; he hadn’t even bothered to put it on Nicky today. 

Too soon Stiles found himself frozen at the door to the house, balancing Nicky on his hip as he stared down the door. He knew that the pack was aware of his presence already, but there was a tiny part of him that insisted that as long as he didn’t knock then he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this. It was the impatient shifting in his arms that finally made Stiles bite the bullet and knock on the door.

He knew the moment that someone started moving towards the door; Nicky went still in his arms, tiny body suddenly struck with tension. His head cocked to the side, obviously listening as the werewolf on the other side came closer and closer. Stiles had to bite down on his lip to not burst into laughter at his kid, the expression one that Stiles had seen in passing on dogs.

A moment later the door opened up, Boyd casually leaning against the door frame as he took them in. A vague uptick of his lips, that looked like it might be a smile, accompanied his greeting, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Any other greeting Stiles had was interrupted by a squawk from the toddler in his arms. Flashing eyes exchanged between the two werewolves before some of the tension began to leak out of Nicky’s body. Smothering a snort, Stiles shifted Nicky’s weight to his other hip before glancing into the room behind Boyd, “We good to come in?”

With a quick nod of his head, Boyd stepped back from the door, “Yeah, yeah, come on in. You remember Erica, right?” 

Any chance of him getting to creep on the inside of the house before being introduced to anyone else was put to rest by the sight of the blonde grinning at him from the living room sofa. It was a look that had softened some from the constant ‘I’m going to eat you if I feel like it’ expression she had been well known for.

“Erica,” Stiles nodded his head, finally sparing a smile. When Erica had changed so suddenly in high school there had been tons of rumors (the most popular involving drugs and threesomes at the train depot), but knowing that she had been changed in high school it was obvious that Erica had just been trying to figure out who she was besides the sick kid who’d peed herself on video.

Healthy and happy was a great look on her.

Taking his acknowledgment as approval to move closer, Erica slipped forward face scrunching up as she peered at Nicky. “Stilinski, gotta say somehow I wasn’t surprised to hear you’d dragged a cub back with you to Beacon Hills.” The sharp grin she tossed up at him was softened by the humor dancing in her curious eyes.

Nicky was stiff in his arms, eyes glowing as his little nose worked to take in the new environment. In the back ground he head a car door close, but he was too distracted by Erica’s cooing attempts to get Nicki to let her closer. The woman trying to convince his son that she was his friend looked completely different from the girl he had imagined eating his face in high school (and not in the fun way). If she hadn’t stopped to occasionally glare at Boyd’s amused chuckles at her attempts Stiles would have thought she was a completely different person.

Nicki was still tense but, like his father when faced with a pretty woman willing to play as fool for him, was starting to loosen up and consider putting on his friendly face. Of course that was the moment Isaac stepped into the house, apparently breaking the unspoken barrier that had developed between Nicki and the others, and sent his toddler into a protective rage. Automatically flipping the toddler in his arms so that his stomach was supported by Stiles’ forearms, the outward facing hold one less likely to end with one of his kid’s claws in his face, Stiles took a step away from everyone as he dodged flailing arms to rub Nicki’s back.

Stumbling and apologizing, Isaac had automatically dropped the bags in his hand and started stepping back, but the movement seemed to enrage Nicky even more. Tiny claws slashed through the air as the transformed child strained in his father’s arms to reach the threat. While normally Nicki’s growls were cute the ones coming from him now were comparable to a very pissed and dangerous dog- Stiles had never seen his kid this wound up, enough so that every attempt his father made to calm him was ignored.

“Enough.” How Stiles had missed the figure slipping into the room from the kitchen and crossing the room in one quick smooth motion was a mystery. Stiles felt himself tensing as the obvious Alpha approached his child, red eyes completely focused on the tiny person growling in his arms.

A human hand reached out and gently cradled Nicki’s head, carefully tilting it up to force eye contact. “Enough, we’re friends.” There was no threat, no anger in the statement- just a simple confident statement. Stiles held his breath as he waited to see how Nicki would react, a moment when no one made any move in case it might disturb the eye contact between the two of them.

Tension evaporated as Nicki finally stopped growling and Derek stepped back, letting his hand fall back to his side. Righting Nicki in his arms, Stiles ran a hand over his baby’s head before asking, “You okay buddy?” Nicki’s face had shifted back to normal, big brown eyes stared back at Stiles before leaned forward to smack a wet and thankfully declawed fist into his father’s neck.

Laughter burst out throughout the living room, Erica laughing so hard that she practically collapsed clutching her gut. Despite not knowing the joke, Nicki joined in giggling and bouncing in his father’s arms. All the tension flew from Stiles’ frame as one last voice joined in with a quiet chuckle. 

With Nicki finally calm, Stiles had the opportunity to greet the Alpha. Only instead of the vague memory of an angry man he expected Stiles came face to face with a familiar figure. Ridiculous shoulders and arms, gorgeous check bones, stubbled chin- Derek Hale had been creeping on him at the grocery store.

He could only think of one thing to say, “I knew you were staring at my kid.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Stiles slide his hands out from behind Nicky, barely disturbing the sleeping child as he finished getting him buckled into his car seat. It was well past the little guy’s bed time, much later than Stiles had ever thought he would stay, but the day had been too fun for Stiles to put an end to any earlier. 

Once Nicki had warmed up to the pack they had all ended up outside, taking advantage of the house’s private location to run around crazy in their beta forms. It was an experience that Stiles hadn’t been able to give his son yet and the pack’s stamina definitely helped when he grew too tired to run after his spawn anymore. As the sun set he had ended up chilling on the porch with Derek, watching the alpha enjoy his pack’s antics almost as much as he watched Nicki play.

The Hale Pack had always been a family pack; it was something that seemed easily forgotten when only the Alpha was actually a Hale, but watching Derek interact with his betas Stiles was strongly reminded of the fact. 

Examining the quiet older man, Stiles couldn’t help but compare him to the Derek Hale he briefly saw while he was in high school, cold and quiet-rage as he was being processed for his sister’s murder. In front of him stood a calm man who seemed genuinely happy and proud of the Pack he had built.

There had been many changes in Beacon Hills since Stiles left, many he hated and several he was still bidding his time on before deciding, but this was one Stiles found himself liking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are always welcome!
> 
> And don't worry, the next chapter will detail Nicky's day with the Hale Pack from Derek's perspective.


	8. Of Minds and Hearts: Derek

It had been a long time since he had cradled such a delicate head in his hands.

For a while Derek had paced nervously in the kitchen, technically keeping an eye on the marinade for their dinner. Letting the newcomers ease into meeting the pact was smarter than throwing them all at him at once; plus with their guests being related to the Sheriff… It was a big deal. This was the sheriff’s son and grandson; if this went wrong then the pack’s entire existence could be in danger. At least that’s what he had been trying to convince himself he was feeling.

In all honestly the truth of the matter was that if this innocent little werechild and his kind dad (he had to be kind if he had adopted the handful that a baby were would be) didn’t like them then it would be just one more acknowledgement that they were fucked up. The reformed Hale pack had been to hell and back protecting the town and figuring out how to turn their pieces into a family, and while they were all definitely in a much happier place they knew they were still… Broken.

Neither Boyd nor Erica’s families had much to do with the married couple, a good section of the town believed that Isaac had killed his own father, and the people who could met Derek’s eyes and smile at him were scarce. Derek knew that Beacon Hills had had some dark times, but when his pack was so solidly in the good guys column it hurt to be treated otherwise.  
To be rejected by this tiny slice of innocence would be yet another sign that they hadn’t truly made it out of the dark places. That he had failed as an Alpha.

All of that went out of his head the moment he stepped out to calm the upset cub. He knew exactly what the little guy needed; the calm reassurance from an alpha that he and the father he protected would be okay in the foreign territory.  
It was easy, one of the easiest things he had done in a long time, to look into those calmed eyes and let his own convey the safety of the child’s family. When they were separated once more Derek made sure to suppress the surprising ache the gesture had brought forth.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Erica had trapped Stiles on the couch; arms intertwined as she grilled him on his years spent out of Beacon Hills. The young father was caught between laughing at her interrogation skills and watching as Isaac played with Nicki by their feet.

Nicki’s constant return glances to check in with home base had tapered off as he grew more comfortable with playing with Isaac. The beta had stuck to easy games, nothing that was too complicated or obviously going to rile Nicki up.

Even though there were two strangers in their den it felt – it felt homey. Something about the addition of a little one reminded Derek about life pre-fire. It was unsettling enough to get rid of the few remaining nerves gathered in his chest. He even managed a small smile for Nicki when the toddler threw a curious look in his direction. 

“You’re doing a great job with him,” It was the first non-Nicki directed comment that Isaac had uttered since lowering himself onto the floor. Glitter from one of Nicki’s toys had migrated on to his face at some point, but Isaac had yet to discover it since he wasn’t suspiciously eying the phone in Erica’s hand. “He’s hit all of his developmental markers and a person would have to be blind to not see how happy and relaxed he is with you.”

The desire to be a smartass clearly flashed Stiles’ face, a war fought in his eyes until finally leaning forward with parental concern. “Are you sure?”

Derek stood from his seat at the front window (a perch that conveniently placed him between his pack and any potential intruders), “Isaac is right. You’ve raised a happy healthy pup.” His movement after such an extended stillness startled Nicki; his ball dropping from his hand as he turned to stare up at Derek. While he had calmed down it was clear that the toddler wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the alpha.

Relief was clear in Stiles’ voice as he settled back into Erica’s side, “Good to know, there aren’t exactly any were-parenting books out there.”

Slowly crouching, Derek picked up the ball, allowing a hum of agreement as he examined the toy. A quick glance at Isaac showed his beta’s grin threatening to split his face as he gave his alpha an encouraging wink. Almost shyly, Derek extended the toy to Nicki palm open so that the child could grab it from his hand.

For a moment nothing happened, everyone staring at the pair of them, before Nicki turned to cast a worried look at his father (the concern on such a small face was almost comical). A nod from Stiles was all it took for the young werewolf to turn his attention back to his ball, but almost another minute passed before a tiny hand reached out to gently pluck it from Derek’s hand. When Derek made no movement and the ball was safely cradled to Nicki’s chest, the toddler meet Derek’s eyes before seriously stating, “Ball.”

It almost hurt how large the smile was that burst across his face as Derek nodded his head. “You’re right it’s a ball.” Derek wasn’t new to children. There were always one or two under everyone’s feet pre-fire, but this was the first time he’d interacted with one after and as Nicki offered the ball back to him, Derek couldn’t help but be reminded of his cousin, Marisol. Her favorite game for the longest time had been just handing objects back and forth with a person. Managing to ground himself in the moment enough to keep his smile and return the ball to Nicki, Derek looked up to catch Stiles watching them with a fond look on his face. “I won’t know everything, but I’m here if you ever have any questions.”

It was an offer that slipped from his lips unbidden, but Derek knows the moment he said it he meant it. It would be painful, thinking back on the times with his family, but something about having a child directly in front of him made the thought of looking back a little… Sweeter. While most of his memories were focused on playing or trying to escape the chaos, there were a few that stood out as potentially being helpful. He could almost remember like it was yesterday staying up late with his mom as she paced the house to try and calm down a teething Cora; chasing Laura around the backyard while his dad tried to help the little ones control their inner wolf. 

“Thank you,” The words from the couch were warm and soft as Stiles watched Nicki play with Derek. “Seriously, thank you. I’ve been guessing from day one and even the smallest bit of advice would make me feel better.” Sliding his arm free from Erica’s, Stile leaned forward onto his knees watching as Nicki offered his ball to Derek only to take it away at the last moment. “I do have one issue you could help me with.”

Derek had transitioned to trying to get Nicki to start rolling the ball, but every time the toddler got the ball back he would glare at Derek before handing it back to him. It matched a look he had seen on Stiles’ multiple times during their brief acquaintance. Momentarily giving up on changing the kid’s mind, Derek looked up at Stiles, “What’s going on?”

“How did your parents keep you in toys?” Stiles wondered, face scrunching as if imagining the stuffing and plastic pieces that usually accompanied a young werewolf playing rough. “All it takes is one tantrum or good play session to destroy a toy with those teeth and claws. I had to have witches charm his favorite stuffed animal after the first leg came off, but my bank account can only afford so many spells.”

Derek could practically feel his betas’ ears perk up as the young dad watched him expectantly. “That’s one I actually remember,” Cotton built up in his throat and it took several exchanges of the ball for Derek to look back up at Stiles and answer. “Until he learns how to control his strength most toys won’t last long. My parents’ solution was to buy dog toys for the little ones.”

There is a brief moment when the quietest of sounds could have been heard before the slightly horrified look on Stiles’ face evolved into tears as the man started cracking up. The betas were quick to follow, having barely been able to contain themselves the moment the word dog slipped from his mouth. The sound echoed in the big living room, clearing the last of the cotton from his mouth as a solemn “Ball” drew his attention back to his young companion.

Ignoring his hysterical parent with an ease that spoke of much practice, Nicki faked out Derek by holding the ball out only to pull it back at the last second…

And roll it to him instead.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
While there was always grumbling in the mornings when people had to start their long commute to work it was moments like this that made their decision to live so far out perfectly right.

A screeching toddler was running around the backyard, sometimes on two legs sometimes on four, with all three of his betas running and tumbling with him (providing a convenient barrier anytime he got too close to the tree line). While Nicki’s shifting was more chaotic the three betas kept smoothly shifting between their forms just as often to the toddler’s intense delight.

It made Derek want to throw off his clothes and shift to full wolf; dance around his pack and their tiny friend in the waning light until no one could laugh anymore from a lack of breath. Chances were the cub would have never seen anything like it, but the same could probably be said of the father quietly watching from their back porch so Derek refrained.

Instead he poured two glasses of the sweet tea their guest had seemed to enjoy at dinner and joined him on the steps, silently offering the drink as he settled down.

Stiles had already had his own romp in the backyard, helping Nicki relax by being as ridiculous as possible with the others. Derek was pretty sure the grass stains on his jeans might never come out and it looked like Nicki had torn his Dad’s shirt in his excitement, but Stiles didn’t seem to care; happy just to watch his kid having fun.

It would have been picture perfect if the other man hadn’t kept tensing every time Derek came near. While the others had some history with the young man, Derek had no idea where to start reassuring him or what the problem even was.

“So what’s the decision?”

Derek frowned into his tea, confused by the sudden question, “What are you talking about?”

Jaw locked and eyes intensely searching, the exact same face he had seen on the Sheriff when he thought he had murdered his own sister, Stiles clarified his question, “Do we get to stay in Beacon Hills?”

“What?” Derek helplessly turning to face his guest, “Stiles, this is your home. I’d never- Why would- This-I-” He had to stop and struggle to find the words, horrified by what Stiles was implying. Derek had enjoyed the entire day, thinking that it was the start of a great friendship but the entire time Stiles had been anxiously waiting for the axe to fall. How could he have not realized what was going on?

For a moment he thought the swell of despair that hit him would swallow him whole. Derek still wasn’t good enough; wasn’t good enough for his pack or as advisor for the new werewolf parent. He may not have been the fail boat he was years ago, but clearly there was just some about him that was too broken to actually function as a human being. If every one of his instincts weren’t screaming at him not to show any weakness then he’d probably be curling into a protective ball right now. 

Instead he took a breath, letting his eyes shut for a moment as he gathered himself, shoving his feelings out of the way, and when he opened them back up he was the Alpha, calm wise and sure. “Being a werewolf has its joys and its risks. We’re safer in packs and if not in a pack then by at least being aware of our surroundings and the people in them. This allows us to identify threats easier and band together to face them instead of everyone just watching over themselves.”

Stiles nodded his head, a frown on his face as he absorbed the information, but Derek knew the human wouldn’t fully understand until the first time a hunter went after his child. Softening his voice Derek continued, “I would never demand you leave. The only reason I would ever run someone out of town is if they were actively a threat, and Stiles, you took a child into your heart despite the fact that with him would come some serious challenges. You came back in Beacon Hills to take care of your sick father; there is no way your family is a threat.” He was tired, so tired all of a sudden, but he needed to make the other man understand, “Yes, we needed to get a feel for you, but honestly today is more about becoming friends more than anything else. That way we can be there for each other.”

At some point during his spiel the wariness in Stiles’ eyes had faded into soft amusement, “Damn, you’re a big old softie aren’t you.” The young father shook his head before smiling at the werewolf, “Friends would be nice.” 

There was a sudden uproar of curses as Nicki crashed into Erica at just the right place to send the beta tumbling onto a stretched out Isaac, kneeing him in the gut as she twisted to keep from falling on the baby. “Especially friends my kid can’t break.”

Derek huffed a soft laugh, feeling instantly lighter, “He’s welcome anytime if he’s going to tire them out like that.” It looked like the three adults had just given up, collapsed into a pile with Nicki climbing all over them.

“I’d like that, really,” Stiles ducked his head, scratching at his hair line he went on, “And I’m sorry about implying that, you know, you would steal my kid or eat us.”

Derek could only feel the last of his despair slip away as he threw an incredulous look at the other man. His eyes clearly said everything because Stiles’ entire face went red. Feeling magnimous Derek didn’t actually voice the comment, just simply stating. “We’re here if you need anything.”

The kind of smile that appeared on Stiles’ face was as if stars had exploded across the night sky, bright and a sight to be cherished. Derek wasn’t perfect, but if could make that appear then he must have been doing something right.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Someone (Isaac or Boyd, Derek wasn’t sure) had thought that giving the flagging toddler some pie was a great idea. For a moment it had been, all of them (including Stiles) watching fascinated as the child reacted to the new taste, but not long after the reality of feeding a cranky toddler so much sugar set in.

Stiles didn’t seem surprised by Nicki’s reaction, but he was having a hard time trying to eat his own pie and contribute to the conversation while Nicki threw a fit in his lap. It hardly looked like there was any way for Stiles to be enjoying the conversation, especially since Nicki was still covered in pie remains. 

"Let me take him so you can finish up." It left his mouth before Derek even knew what he was thinking, but he was quick to reach for the fussy mess of a child; lifting an eyebrow when the young father hesitated to relinquish his lap full of terror. 

A twitch of Stiles' lips betrayed his amusement before a flaying fist almost caught him in the face. Sighing, he slipped his hands under Nicki's arms and handed him over to the Alpha. "Just be sure to let me know if he becomes too much."

A shriek of defiance escaped the cub in his hands, as if Nicki had no problem proving just how much of a terror he could be. While Derek had played with the child earlier in the day and held his fragile head in his hands, it was incredibly different to feel the shifting of his ribs as he breathed. Nicki’s tiny heart beat was quick staccato in his ears, drowning out all other noise.

Standing Nicki up in his lap, Derek turned to the first tactic he could think of to distract the child. Using the control he had mastered since embracing the Alpha power Derek slowly let his face shit from human to his beta form. It immediately caught the toddler’s attention, so while he still grumbled a bit Nicki was fascinated with watching Derek’s face. It only took a few changes for Nicki to settle himself against Derek’s chest, relaxing his body against the Alpha. Peace settled over Derek as the other’s conversation faded into the background, the only thing that mattered was the tiny werewolf solemnly watching his face.

The rumble that started in his chest took him by surprise. He could remember leaning against one of his parents as they made the sound, soothing him back to sleep after a nightmare. One of his hands slipped from Nicki’s side to run up and down his back, feeling the kid’s body relax the longer he kept it up. Derek was even able to stop shifting his face without receiving any complaints.

It didn’t take long for Nicki’s head to start drooping, sleep looking like inevitability. Nicki seemed to agree, after a couple more passes of his hand the toddler settled his head on Derek’s shoulder sliding his thumb into his mouth. Startled, Derek looked over to Stiles. It was a minute before the young man looked over, pausing mid-sentence to mouth an “Are you okay?” Seeing that Stiles wasn’t bothered by the situation Derek nodded and managed to find a reassuring smile before he turned back to Erica.

Pie was staining his shirt and Nicki was hot enough that he’d become uncomfortable overtime, but Derek was filled with so much warm tenderness for Nikolai Stilinski that neither of those things mattered.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
It was almost an hour before the Stilinskis made their way out the door. Like a pro, Stiles had managed to transfer Nicki’s sticky sleepy self from Derek’s arms and into his own. The betas had already been shooed back into the house, their giggles at the dessert that was now staining his shirt threatening to wake the baby.

Stiles moved with the ease of routine, getting Nicki safely tucked into his seat and the diaper bag stowed under him without the slightest hint of trouble. A short wave was directed at Derek before Stiles opened the driver side door, and it hit Derek that this night was ending. It was the first time in a long time that he had actually been around someone not in the pack and for the life of him Derek couldn’t figure out if it was Stiles or Nicki he was thinking of.

“See you around.” It was all he could trust his thick tongue to say; unwilling to let it spoil such a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of adding another work that is just drabbles from the Teething Bones universe. Let me know what ya'll think of that?


	9. The Door Creaks Open: Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes in the chapter, my beta has a heavy courseload this semester so it was either wait a long time or get this posted. I decided not to make ya'll wait any longer! I've now made this into a series so if you click onto the next fic you will find the beginnning of a series of drabbles filling in this universe more. I hope you enjoy it!

The sharp rap at his front door was the signal he had been waiting for; Stiles quit the pacing that he had taken up since the confirmation text he had received twenty minutes prior and rushed to greet his guest. He may have fumblingly knocked into a couple pieces of furniture (luckily they had already moved the knick-knacks from that side table), but when he pulled open the door Stiles figured he at least looked like he had shit together.

“Derek…” Stiles froze, mouth hanging open, taken off guard by the alpha’s presence at his door. He had opened the door expecting a fluffy blonde beta, not the leather jacket wearing serious alpha. “You’re here?”

The reply from the blonde teacher hadn’t actually said that he’d be heading over after receiving Stiles’ SOS; just that Stiles would have a babysitter momentarily. Biting his lip, Stiles shook his head to rid it of the fog of expectation before smiling, “You are my babysitter for the day.”

The older man managed a nod, not quite managing to keep his amusement from twitching at his lips. “As requested; Isaac said something about a doctor’s appointment?”

“Yes!” Stiles opened the door wider, gesturing for the other man to come in. “Thank you, for making it on such short notice. You’re really doing me a solid here.”

Erica had snuck off with his phone at one point during their initial meet-up; programming all of their numbers into his phone and had been relentlessly spamming him ever since. One group chat made solely for her attempt to embarrass her husband’s beer choices had been enough to get him to reach out to Isaac, who wasn’t as relentless as Erica but just as loquacious at times. He rarely heard from Boyd, but the man always seemed to save his words for the perfect zingers (Isaac had happily provided video proof of Erica beating her husband with a pillow after one particular shot).

There hadn’t been any messages from Derek. The older man had also been absent during the coffee dates he had been cajoled into joining the others on during the week.

“Okay, numbers are on the fridge, kid is gnawing on something in his room, and I threw a casserole in the oven so that you would have food. Ugh, what else, what else?” Stiles paused from shoving his wallet into his grown-up messenger bag to look at the other man, “You do know how to take care of a child right?”

Derek hadn’t said a word since stepping in the house, not that Stiles had really given him an opening, but he was a pro at non-verbal communication; lifting an eyebrow in exactly the manner to remind Stiles that he had had plenty of Nicki time during their visit to the Hale House. It was honestly impressive and if Stiles hadn’t needed to go rushing out the door he would have asked for a lesson; that would come in handy once Nicki became a teenager.

“Nevermind, dumb question. Can you believe that my Dad tried to hide this appointment from me? I’m really glad that I’ve been bribing Mrs. Anderson since I was twelve for any info behind his back.” Stiles knew that he was babbling; knew that if he didn’t have to walk out the door he would just keep going and going, but he couldn’t help it. His dad hadn’t told him about this cardiologist appointment; which either meant something was still wrong or the sheriff was just being his typical bull-headed self. Either way Stiles wouldn’t be able to calm down until he ambushed his dad before he left the station. Stiles wasn’t going to be missing out on this appointment.

“He’s teething so a total grump, but Nicki’s a good kid so he shouldn’t be much of a problem. I’m sorry about the late notice again, I-“

There were hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly as Derek murmured, “Breathe Stiles.” He carried enough authority in his voice that Stiles was able to focus his racing thoughts on the man in front of him instead of the anxiety gradually clawing at him. Once he was able to take some deep breathes, Stiles was able to feel some of the stress in his body release.

“And Stiles,” Derek waited for Stiles to meet his eyes before breaking out into one of the most breathtaking smiles Stiles had ever seen (a hard feat when he spent most of his time with a toddler), “Your dad is fine. Boyd’s been keeping a nose and ear on him.”

Leaving his house with laughter still bubbling in his chest definitely made the drive to the police station a thousand times better. At the very least it meant there was no strain of stress showing on his face when his father walked out to see him leaning against the hood of his police car.

______________________________________________________________________________

Like any plans that Stiles seemed to make since becoming a father, everything seemed determined to take as long as possible in order to delay his return.

He had waited until they were settled in the doctor’s waiting room to send the first text Derek’s way and was pleasantly surprised by the swift reply updating him on Nicki’s status (currently covered in banana but happy). Light ribbing from his father had kept him from abusing his texting capabilities, but there had been a few follow-ups as they went about the appointment and teeth-grinding traffic as they made their way home.

Stiles wasn’t really worried- not after seeing the care that Derek took with his betas, but there was still the question of how Nicki behaved while he was gone. He had snuck out on the kid after all, instead of potentially dealing with a tantrum when Nicki realized that he was being left behind. There had been some aborted efforts to leave the tiny werewolf with babysitters in the past, but Stiles had been willing to indulge that fear for the first few months of their cohabitation since the child had already lost one set of parents.

Thankfully, Nicki had taken to his grandfather like a duck to water and with the sheriff (mostly) on sick leave there hadn’t been a need for any babysitter searches (and seeing how quickly the pack was available maybe he wouldn’t need to).

It turned out that he really shouldn’t have worried. There was a little bit of debris strewn across the floor, but nothing unsurprising for a house with a toddler, and it smelled like his casserole had definitely come out as expected (with enough low fat cheese on top to disguise just how healthy it actually was). Expectantly his dad sniffed the air and promptly took off towards the kitchen, leaving Stiles to venture further into the house to find his progeny and guardian.

It wasn’t a long search, their house wasn’t very big (especially since three generations had started inhabiting it), and as with most things Nicki had his preferences. He found Derek sprawled on his back on the floor of Nicki’s room; one hand resting on the back of his sleeping toddler. Toys covered the floor, with what looked like one completely destroyed stuff animal shoved in the corner next to the bookcase.

It was by far cuter than any image that he had expected to come home to and as had become common since Nicki’s arrival, Stiles had his phone out to snap some pictures before his son realized that his errant daddy had returned. There was no movement from the pair until Stiles quietly lowered himself to his knees to get a better angle.

The shutter had just clicked when Derek’s eyes popped open; silently eying his phone before quietly murmuring, “Don’t you dare sent that out.”

Stiles struggled to keep his smile under wraps as Derek’s phone began chiming constantly from the other side of the room. Everyone must have been on break if the pack was responding this quickly. “Oops?”

A groan followed his admission, before a small snuffle from the warm log on the alpha’s chest made him freeze again. Stiles could have eased his child off of the other man, waken Nicki up with soft kisses across his face, but the temptation to continue taking pictures was too great. The fact that Derek had decided to settle for glaring at him instead of doing anything that could quicken the toddler’s awakening made it even better.

His own phone had started to buzz by the time Nicki truly began to wake up; making the cuddly toddler the perfect shield as Stiles scooped him up off the older man’s chest and into his arms. Shoving his nose in Nicki’s curls, Stiles left obnoxiously loud kisses on his forehead as the tot burrowed into Stiles’ shoulder. Derek moved with surprising grace for someone who had been awkwardly prone just moments before; crossing the room and silencing his phone with an eye roll before turning his attention back to Stiles.

“I take it everything went well?” Stiles questioned over Nicki’s head, watching as the other men shrugged back into the leather jacket he had discarded.

“He was a little upset when he realized that you had left, but once he calmed down we had a great time.”     

“Just a little upset!” Stiles jolted the drowsily blinking toddler in his arms, pouting as he turned his exaggerated grief at his son, “Nicki, you traitor! Daddy is supposed to be your favorite. What happened to the days when me leaving resulted in the next world war?”

Nicki managed a smile at the play before reaching up to pat his father’s lips, muttering a soft “No” before laying his head back on Stiles’ shoulder.

The bark of laughter erupting from the other side of the room nearly started Stiles out of his own soft laughter; Derek looking almost surprised at his own reaction to the child’s antics. On anyone else Stiles would have called the followed look down and sweep of hand through dark hair as sheepish, but somehow the older man managed to turn even that into a graceful movement. If it had been Stiles he probably would have done something completely unattractive like snorting or hitting himself in the face.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Stiles muttered before focusing on the reason for the alpha’s presence, “Thanks again for the save.”

“Not a problem,” Derek shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched the both of them. “You interrupted me from a busy day of doing nothing; it really wasn’t a problem.”

It was quickly turning awkward; Stiles could sense it. The two of them hadn’t tried to socialize outside of their initial introduction, but it definitely seemed like they did better when they were able to focus on Nicki. Hopefully he wasn’t coming off as too much of a weirdo, “Do you want to stay for dinner?”          

“No, thank you,” Derek ran a hand through his hair after an aborted glance at a naked wrist, “I should get back.”

Stiles nodded his head, shifting Nicki onto his hip as he slipped out of the room, “Let me walk you out.”

________________________________________________________________________________

The Stilinskis spent their evening as they spent most evenings; nothing out of the ordinary except for the bubble of happiness that grew in Stiles’ heart every time he looked at his dad and the Sheriff’s warm answering grin. Nicki still babbled nonsense and wore more food than he ate at dinner, the Sheriff poured over newspaper, and Stiles attempted to work but spent most of his time being caroled into playing with who he was certain was the most mischievous toddler in the world.

The surprise came when Stiles went to tuck a soap smelling, squishy marshmellow of a child that a clean, drowsy Nicki became. After pressing gentle kisses to soft skin and fighting the urge to linger, Stiles bent over to pick-up a few of the toys still strewn about the toddler’s room. There was no need for any serious cleaning but triaging the mess would prevent any sprained ankles when Nicki became an organic alarm clock.

Buried underneath two stuff animals and a plastic train was a flash of red and blue that Stiles didn’t recognize. Picking it up, Stiles only had to take one look before he was fishing his phone out of his pocket.

               **To: Derek Hale     8:30pm**

_a dog toy really?_

Setting the rubber bone right back at the edge of Nicki’s crib, Stiles once again resisted the siren call of his child’s sweet sleeping and returned to his ‘desk’.

Two email replies later Stiles was debating on if he was bored enough to get lost in cyber stalking his friends via facebook or continue to shovel his way through the dry tome that a friend had sent his way when his phone started dancing at his elbow. Somehow that instead of the chase scene playing out on the television screen woke his dad from the light doze he had fallen into on the couch. Smiling at the familiar scene of his dad shuffling off to his room and closing the e-reader on his laptop, Stiles settled back in the living room chair he had transferred to when his ass started to numb on their hard kitchen chairs.

               **From: Derek Hale    9:45pm**

_I couldn’t resist making a dog joke._

               **From: Derek Hale    9:46pm**

_But mostly because I knew it’d help with the teething._

               **From: Derek Hale    9:46pm**

_It was that or my fingers._

Stiles was glad he had taken to closing Nicki’s door at night because the laughter that escaped past his lips could have woken a dead man from his grave. He had not so secretly taken delight in some dog jokes when it came to werewolves and his son; except anytime others had tried to joke in the same way they were met with cold stares. It felt different with the pack; probably because they were all in on the joke instead of making it at someone’s expense.

               **To: Derek Hale    9:50pm**

_It only you had the ability to heal from sharp little teeth. Oh wait, you do! Admit it; you only bought the toy to save your precious leather jacket from teeth marks._

               **From: Derek Hale    9:53pm**

_You caught me; guilty as charged._

               **To: Derek Hale    9:58pm**

_Knew it. Thanks for the today… Again. Nicki really doesn’t react well at the Doctor’s and I never know if my Dad is telling me everything_

               **From: Derek Hale    10:02pm**

_I get it. Family is important. Let me know if you need any more emergency babysitting._

**To: Derek Hale          10:05pm**

_No take backs! I will definitely take advantage of that offer. J Have a good night!_

**From: Derek Hale     10:07pm**

_Night._

________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning was ordinary compared to the chaos from the day before. Nicki woke everyone bright and early, Stiles struggled to get work done, and his dad kept cracking up over the chew toy that Nicki was determined to carry everywhere. It was made even better with the knowledge that his father’s heart was healing as expected.

He hadn’t been expected to hear back from Derek so soon, but right around noon his phone buzzed with another text from his emergency babysitter.

**From: Derek Hale        11:58am**

_Have you taken Nicki to Henson Park, yet? It’s right at the edge of the preserve and rarely occupied during school hours. Perfect for baby werewolves._

**To: Derek Hale          12:00pm**

_Dude, playground equipment and no one to see my kid shove his nose in weird ass places? I’m there. When do you want to go?_

It took about fifteen minutes of silence for Stiles to register just how strange it was to invite a grown man on a playdate with his tiny child. Fuck, he was never going to come off as anything other than a hot mess when it came to Derek.

**To: Derek Hale        12:17pm**

_Fuck, I’m sorry. That was weird; just forget about it._

He was in the middle of an impressive episode of self-flagration when his phone pinged, prompting a groan as he momentarily buried his head under a pillow before forcing himself to check his screen.

**From: Derek Hale    12:23pm**

_No, it’s fine. Text when you head out tomorrow and I’ll met you._

There was a smile on his face, a smile that that would have been surprising if he had managed to see it in the mirror. Maybe he was as screwed as he thought if Derek was able to get past his awkwardness.

**To: Derek Hale      12:26pm**

_Great! I’ll see you tomorrow._


End file.
